Not Fast Enough
by daughter-of-Myou
Summary: Based on the events of Transwarped: Part 2. Having been confronted by the Decepticon spy, Blurr races through the Spacebridge Nexus in hopes of escaping. What goes on within the speedster's mind as Shockwave attempts to protect his identity?


He was going to die.

Blurr tore through the darkened corridors of the Spacebridge Nexus, skidding on his heels and veering onto alternate routes as the sliding doors slammed shut time and again in front of his faceplates. Left, right, left again; his path didn't matter. He'd dive into a garbage chute if it meant he could get away – but there were no garbage chutes. There were no ventilation shafts, no service ducts. Just doorways that clunked sharply into solid walls whenever he neared, dull red lights and shadows. He couldn't get out – there was no escape. He was going to die. After so many solarcycles spent in silence undercover on Earth, after being catapulted through a Spacebridge whilst stuck to two Seeker clones, after sprinting the length of the galaxy just to give a single stupid report – Longarm Prime was going to trap and kill him, right here on Cybertron, where they had both been recognised as honorary Autobots.

No, Blurr thought as he sprinted through the darkness with his spark in his mouth; that's not his name. Longarm was never his name and he was never an Autobot – he's a fraggin' Decepticon spy and he's going to kill me!

He couldn't let himself be bested by Shockwave. He was the only one who knew that Wasp was innocent, and that the head of Autobot Intelligence was the real spy. All along – Longarm had been a traitor. Blurr shook his head fiercely as his rapidly-closing escape routes continued to disappear, one by one, at every turn, taunting him. Thinking like that would only slow his movements, further reducing his already-bleak chances of survival. He had to survive – for justice's sake, if nothing else.

His breath was coming in ragged gasps, cooling fluid leaking from every panel in his chassis. It's a race, he told himself; a race between me, the fastest Autobot who ever ran on the surface of Cybertron, and Shockwave, a big old tank whose only hope of winning is to trap me like an animal right here in these halls. Well how about this for some intelligence, pal – you can't catch me! I'm too fast for you!

He shot through an open doorway and sped toward the next, able to sense his freedom on the other side – but his confidence shattered as he suddenly found himself faced with a dead end. He skidded to a halt, panic rising in his throat, and span on his heel to head back the way he had came. A sudden crash of metal on metal pierced his audio receptors, optics met by the sight of a second barricade.

For a nanoklik that lasted an eternity, Blurr stood motionless between the suffocating walls of his new prison. There's no way out, he realised. The thought spiralled endlessly through his processor, faster than lightning. _There's no way out, there's no way out, there's no way out._

A strange sound met his audios; the threatening grinding of motors. He stared around, cold with dread, and froze as his optics registered something that made him wish he could wake up from this nightmare. The doors seemed to be getting closer – compressing the air in-between. Longarm – Shockwave – was trying to use them to crush him. He was completely trapped; there was no exit, only four solid walls that were swiftly closing in.

Blurr rammed his full weight against the closest wall, desperately trying to push it back. His sprinting feet skidded on the polished floor, unable to find traction or grip – he could feel himself sliding backwards no matter how hard he pushed. He span around and lunged toward the opposite wall – already uncomfortably within servo's reach – and brought up his legs to try and wedge the gap open in his panic. He gritted his teeth, pain and terror shooting through his legs and shoulders as the ruthless pushing force of the walls caused his knees to buckle.

With all the force of an exploding grenade, it dawned on him as he lost his nerve. _I wasn't fast enough._

Pinned between the walls like a mouse caught in a trap, Blurr let a pleading wail escape his vocal processors as his chassis began to creak under the pressure. He could feel the life being squeezed from his systems, unable to draw breath or move. The lights on his thighs and shoulders splintered, windshield shattering into a thousand tiny fragments, as frantic images flashed before his optics in a stream of rhythmic memories – before his world went dark.


End file.
